Blacker than Black by Rhi Etzweiler Page B

Jhez’s voice is sharp, hostile. And at the same time, I can hear the thread of panic begging Garthelle to do something.
    “Somewhere quiet. Your twin needs rest,” comes the dry, withering response. “I’ve plenty of room.”
    “I don’t trust you.”
    I try to reach out to her. The energy in my stomach hums with the desire to calm her fears, but my aura lacks the strength to obey.
    With a disapproving hiss, Garthelle tightens his arm around my shoulders. Tension radiates from his chest, though why he’s so close to me, I can’t determine. He makes such a great effort to keep his distance. Never mind that he hates me. I can feel his other arm around my legs. Why is he carrying me?
    Jhez sighs, the sound resigned. Accepting. “Very well, Le Gross . Have it your way. Is there a driver to take me home? I’ll return this afternoon. It’s what Black wants.” She pauses, and I imagine she’s tilting her head to study him. “My twin doesn’t trust you either. In case you hadn’t taken notice. Provide a reason.” Jhez’s lips brush against my hair and then she retreats and is gone.
    “Brazen words, don’t you think?” Garthelle’s whisper, and his footsteps, echo mutedly in my ears as if I’m submerged in water. “Though not surprising. Both of you are rather forward and outspoken.”
    A door latch clicks. Opening my eyes accomplishes nothing; my surroundings appear as indistinguishable blurs of colors. Despite that, I can still recognize a bed for what it is, and I hum a random sound of relief when Garthelle lowers me onto its soft, welcoming surface. Fingertips graze my cheek, brushing the hair from my face, and I shudder at the vivid surge of energy-memories that swell up in response.
    I hear his voice but can’t respond as I sink into unconsciousness, into the darkness where the energy throbs to life to serenade me with sensations and emotions, singing along my nerve endings with such force that pain and pleasure blend together.

 
    Consciousness returns with sudden clarity, like flipping a light switch.
    I open my eyes, but make no attempt to move. Energy drain tenses the body, heightens sensitivity, and the hangover is akin to a full-bodied cross between a bruise and a cramp. Taking stock of my surroundings and searching my overworked brain for what happened is a more pressing need.
    Despite my condition, there’s warmth enveloping me. It alleviates the worst of the pain. I shift my hips, wondering where the heat’s coming from.
    Silk sheets, black. Heavy velvet curtains shroud the windows—black. Vague glow of illumination. Black-light. I tense and wonder if I’m still experiencing some sort of hallucination. Or am I somehow back in Garthelle’s flat?
    “Relax.” The word is thick and husky with slumber. Memory floods back, triggered by the sound of that single word. I’m not certain, though, how ensuring my undisturbed rest involves throwing one’s arm around me and . . . spooning.
    The energy in my veins hums at his proximity. With a sigh, I close my eyes and relax into the heat radiating from his form. Garthelle shifts, his arm tightening.
    “That doesn’t happen often, does it.” His words, still slightly slurred with sleep, are a caress of warm air along the nape of my neck.
    “I don’t usually push myself that hard.”
    Garthelle grunts. It’s beyond my comprehension how he managed to lay here in bed with me for however long without feeling the urge to feed on me. Perhaps the fact that he fed recently was enough? Or maybe it just isn’t a temptation since I don’t have much to offer him. But those aspects alone wouldn’t stay any other vampire. Or, to be more precise—I wouldn’t trust them to show any restraint.
    The silence draws out, a peaceful, serene creature basking in the hazy warmth of inexplicable gratification.
    So of course I shatter it. “Why am I in your bed? I could have slept this off elsewhere, Monsieur. It—”
    The moist caress of his lips on my shoulder